Saturday, August 12, 2006

Hell's sodding bells!

After a rather delicious dinner of steak and mushrooms, I, patting my full belly with one eye on Tomb Raider the movie and a bottle of German wine chilling nicely in the fridge, was half considering to retire to my jammies. When suddenly the paramour's phone rang.'Don't answer it.' I said, feeding the bigger of the cats some fat.He rolled his eyes and picked up. Clearly my phone paranoia has yet to rub off on him.'Oh, hey there! Long time no hear, what are you up to?' he said.' No no, nothing much, you?'I carried the plates into the kitchen and washed them off. By the time I returned he was hanging up.'We're going out.''We are?''yes, that was Matt. He's coming into town and he wants us to meet his new girlfriend.''Matt...Matt? The chap who spreads all his words out?''Yup.''The eco warrior...that Matt?''Uh-huh.''The one with the red indian tattoed on his upper arm? The non meat-eating guy who thinks we should all live off one acre of land? That one? And his new girlfriend?''Cat-''No no, I just want to be sure, I want to be prepared.''yes well... he's a good guy you know.''Hitler liked dogs too.'He frowned at me, his greeney/brown eyes narrowed.I rolled my own eyes...'All right all right. Pour me a rum and diet coke. I'll go have a shower and get ready.''Thank you.' We kiss. I cop a quick feel and trundle off.I wander off down the hall, the bigger of the cats trailing me-as is his wont. I tap my lower lip with my index finger. Now where did I put that leather pencil skirt again? And would wearing the vintage mink be over kill?

17 Comments:

Hello, how are you? Nice blog you have here. Don't stop for no apparent reason.

Don't take a look at my site, it's an abomination against all that's good in the world.

Anyway, my girlfriend has a friend who's boyfriend is like that. It was in the middle of his lecture about how he was going to live in a commune in India because nobody would listen to him here about how we should live our lives conscientiously that I made the mistake of asking him in which sweatshop his lovely pair of Nike trainers were made. Since then he's never come out with us. So in conclusion, get that mink on and make sure you drop the comment at some point in the evening that you don't mind global warming if it means the weather will be nicer.

Tell you all abot it tomorrow, going to bed now. Painkillers kicking in. And Kieran, har, I knew another chap like that, Spanish fellow, always rabbiting on about Capitalistas and global this and EVILAMERIKKKA that and all manner of shit, while he wore a Kangol hat and the latest Pumas and worked in the equivilant of the civil service. Bloomin twit.

Southern California is swimming in the sort of hippies that stick "Mother Earth Is Crying!" decals all over their 1970s VW vans which are amongst the filthiest on the roads. The disconnect there apparantly does not disturb the drivers in the least, 'cos see these vans often have flowers or hearts painted on and we all know they're good, right?

The will is there but not really the effort, except perhaps in an ostentatious preference for veat and an unwillingness to pollute the environment with shampoo.

Oooh goody! If I say more neo-con things can I have gin? Enough of these and I'll tell you my real political opinions which are likely to be somewhere way to the left of neo-cons, but still somewhere right of Michael Moore.

Nope, the VW van hippies annoy me because I drive a Prius which is an electric hybrid, and often have to sit behind some love-wagon in traffic while it belches all sorts of evil at me. Through the fog of particulate matter I am urged to "Think Green!" or "Give a tree a hug today!" That's fine, truly, these are fine and good exhortations, but I wish the earnests would start doing a little more walking the walk, or at least a little less driving their filthy rides, if they're serious.

True fact: Hitler wasn't really a teetotaller, and used to have a tot of brandy in his bedtime milk on his doctor's advice. There's also a photo in existence of him holding a glass of champagne the day Japan attacked Pearl Harbor.

About Me

I'm a bouncy, opinionated, messy haired marathon running (!) bibliophile. I wear high heels and have delightful ankles. I'm a devoted drinker. I want a French Bulldog puppy whom I shall call Batman and dress in capes on occasion.
I would also like a pug, whom I shall name Mister Woo. He can remain capeless, but I will make sure he wears a diamante collar at all times.
Both dogs will submit to repeated snorgling and high pitched squeals that only a dolphin would normally tolerate.
I hate Reiki/psychics/mystics/frauds with all my liver. Also, I'm firmly against Jazz and poetry/poems/pomes/ peoms or any of that stuff. I believe in the healing power of ginger.